The Three Things Mycroft Needs
by epicluna
Summary: Mycroft Holmes is an enigma wrapped in a mystery, baked in a cake and covered in syrup. What will happen when the three things the British Government needs to function are taken away?
1. Lemons

The Three Things That Mycroft Needs

Chapter 1 – Lemons

"ANTHEA!"

The brunette stepped into Mycroft's office, glancing every now and then at her phone. "Yes?"

"WHERE ARE THEY?"

"Where are what, sir?"

"MY LEMONS."

Anthea giggled.

"THIS IS NOT FUNNY!" the British Government glared at her.

Anthea coughed. "Of course not, sir. But I have no idea where your lemons are."

"Damn..." he growled. Mycroft continued searching. He had turned over the entire office in his haste, the desk literally upside down on the floor, which was littered with important papers. This was going to take forever to clean up – and to explain to the President of Antarctica why his peace treaty was in the goldfish bowl. Mycroft never truly got angry, so this must be a complete disaster. Usually, Anthea would give him a brandy and send him to bed, but this was different. Mycroft continued trashing the office.

"Sir, why don't you ask your brother if he's taken them?" Anthea suggested. Mycroft stood up straight.

"Excellent idea." he grinned, then picked up the phone that had fallen onto the floor, dialling the 221B home number.

"Hello dear broth-" Mycroft began – before tinny laughter filled the office. Mycroft went red. "SHERLOCK!" he bellowed into the phone. "You bring me my lemons right NOW!" there was a pause.

"Hey Mycroft, it's John. Sherlock got bored and passed the phone onto me." sighed a new voice. "What did you need?"

"John..." Mycroft put on his superior honey-like voice that he reserved for peasants. "Put Sherlock back on the phone right now."

"Why?"

"Just DO IT." he growled.

"Fine, fine! Calm down." John sighed. His voice grew fainter. "Sherlock, it's Mycroft... Oh... You can't- ... I can't tell him that! ... Fine! But this sibling rivalry is ridic-... For God's sake, Sherlock! No! You're being childish! ... NO! Damn! Mycroft, I have to go, Sherlock's set one of my jumpers on fire. DAMN IT SHERL-" the phone cut off, leaving both Mycroft and Anthea utterly speechless.

There was a pause.

"Get the secret service." Mycroft growled. "Tell them to buy at least 30 lemons."

"30?" Anthea sighed.

"Yes." Mycroft put his desk the right way up and sat in his chair, hands clasped under his chin. "Tell them to hurry. Oh, and Anthea?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Hire a guard and tell him to kidnap John. That might make Sherlock more cooperative."

"John who, sir?"

Mycroft put a hand to his face. "Doctor John Watson."

"Certainly, sir." Anthea smiled her sweetest smile and left.


	2. Lavender

The Three Things Mycroft Needs

Chapter Two – Lavender

The cat padded about the kitchen, mewing quietly. It was five months old and the fluffiest thing on the planet, boasting grey fur with white socks and a small pink nose. No wonder the tall fat balding one liked it so much. The cat noticed one of the doors unlocking, and it pounced on the foot of the person who walked through.

"Hello Lavender!" smiled a woman. The cat would have frowned if it weren't a cat. This wasn't the tall fat balding one. This one was shorter, brunette and pretty. She had a nice suit on. It smelt like lemons. "Are you hungry?"

"Damn right." Lavender mewed cutely. The brunette walked over to the kitchen counter and spent forever preparing something. Lavender's stomach rumbled.

"Do you know my name?" the new woman asked.

"No. Give me my dinner."

"It's Anthea. It's an alias though, so I don't reveal my real name." Anthea smiled. The cat didn't care. The talkative brunette placed a dish of cat food on the floor and waited until Lavender was devouring it to walk out of the kitchen and close the door gently.

"Have you fed her?" Mycroft asked, sitting at his desk, going through some documents. The office looked cleaner than it had the previous day, though the room smelt a lot more lemon-y.

"Yes, I have." Anthea sat in her chair and texted someone on her phone. She glanced at her boss. "Mr Holmes, why are we keeping a cat?"

"I've told you this five times, Anthea!"

"My friend wants to know."

"Who?"

"Stacey in accounting."

"Tell Stacey to bugger off. I'm busy."

"Oh go on, sir! Please!"

Mycroft put a hand to his face. "We are keeping the cat because the prime minister is out of the country. That cat is one of the most important animals in the world – third only to the President's dog and the Queen's corgis."

"So you're a cat-sitter."

"...yes."

"But why do you need the lemons? You got really stroppy yesterday. I had a huge job cleaning this place up. Oh, and that's going on my overtime."

"I assumed as much." Mycroft groaned.

"Go on then. Lemons."

"Lemons have a natural perfume. Cut them up and place them around a house or an office, and you mask any unpleasant scents, such as cat litter or faeces."

"Oh! That makes sense. But why didn't you just use aerosols? Or one of those air freshener thingies?"

"Lemons cost less. If you haven't noticed, Anthea, we are in a recession." Mycroft sighed. "Plus I like the smell of lemons. My brother doesn't. If anything, it's a Sherlock repellent."

"But why did he kidnap your lemons yesterday if he hates them?"

"To get back at me? To impress John? To make lemonade? I don't know. The affairs of my brother are sometimes too complicated for me to explain." Mycroft rolled his eyes.

xxx

"Hold on John, I've almost got it."

"Well hurry up!"

"Shut up! I'm concentrating!"

Sherlock bit his lip. John pulled at his jumper nervously. As the security camera focused on the tiny cat in Mycroft's kitchen, Lavender looked up and mewed. Sherlock grinned.

"We've got him."

"Why are you trying to look at a cat?" John sighed. "Don't tell me you're catnapping it. We are NOT getting any more animals. You already have your bees and Gladstone."

"Don't be so dull. Blackmail, John, blackmail!" Sherlock quickly printed out a screenshot of the footage and put the large photo into his coat pocket. He grinned at John. "Come on. We've got work to do."


	3. Lestrade

The Three Things Mycroft Needs

Chapter Three – Lestrade

Mycroft put his legs up on the desk. Scotland Yard was quiet – it was 9pm, and Mycroft had had enough of lemons and cats, so he'd come to moan about his life to the one guy who didn't always want to punch him in the face.

Gregory Lestrade.

Lestrade walked into his office, carrying a bunch of paperwork. He yawned. Bloody Sherlock. Yeah, deducing shit is great, but then he swans off, leaving Lestrade to fill in forms with that arrogant Donovan, who always insists on making goo-goo eyes at Anderson, who _just happened to be dropping by_, and then they fill in forms and moan about Sherlock's annoying face and what it might be doing to John at that very moment. Lestrade sighed and stopped in the door frame when he noticed the British Government sprawled on the desk.

"Holmes." Lestrade sighed. "I hope you've got brandy in your coat."

"I've told you, Gregory, it's Mycroft, please. And no, I have none." the taller man set down his newspaper.

"What is it today?" Lestrade asked. "Bitching about Sherlock again?"

"I worry about my brother constantly." Mycroft frowned. "I do not _bitch_."

Lestrade laughed. "Yes you do! And I know that he's done something – you only read the paper when you want to talk about the mini detective."

"Good observational skills." Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "Tell me more."

"No, no, I'm not gonna stand here and make a fool of myself." Lestrade shoved Mycroft's feet off his desk and placed his paperwork in their place. Mycroft pouted at him.

"Go on, entertain me!" Mycroft chuckled.

"No thanks."

"Fine." Mycroft crossed his legs, still sat on the desk. Lestrade sat in his chair, clasping his hands.

"You're like a teenage girl!" Lestrade laughed.

"How so?"

"You gossip about everyone," Lestrade grinned. "and you think you're the centre of the universe but the worst person in it too. You also spy on everyone, like a girl spying on a crush. Oh, and you eat loads of cake – ah. Shit."

Mycroft's face went red, his eyes narrowing. "I will have you know, DI Lestrade, that I am on an all-carb diet!"

"Yep, definitely a teenage girl." Lestrade chuckled.

They sat in silence for a moment, Lestrade grinning, Mycroft slowly shaking his head.

"So what did you want today?" Lestrade shuffled through some papers. "If you're not gonna do anything, I'll need you to leave. I'm busy."

"Busy? What, claiming things aren't your division and eating all your doughnuts is your definition of 'busy'?"

"Mycroft!" Lestrade glared at him.

"So it's only okay to insult my diet?" Mycroft smiled.

"Yes!"

"How so?"

"Because it's funny!"

"It is not!"

There was a pause.

"Gregory?"

"What now?"

"No-one else speaks to me like that."

"Maybe it's because they're scared of you." Lestrade shrugged.

"Why aren't you?"

Lestrade laughed. "Because you're a complete idiot who can't stick to a diet, is having an affair with his umbrella and worries about his little brother way too much to be normal."

Mycroft smiled. "You know just what to say. I might take the camera out of your bookshelf for that."

"Aw, how thoughtful. I love you too." Lestrade winked.

"Well, I'd better be off." Mycroft swung himself off the desk, retreating out of the door.

"Oh, wait, Holmes?"

"Mm?"

"How's the cat?" Lestrade grinned, holding up a large photograph. "Sherlock dropped this off earlier. Somehow, he got pictures of this very special cat and spread them around various governments. Everyone thinks you're a catnapper. And what's up with the lemons?" Lestrade put a hand to his mouth, trying not to laugh.

"That little-!" Mycroft screeched. He ran out of Scotland Yard, making furious calls to Baker Street. Lestrade just laughed.

"British Government my ass."


End file.
